


Laugh at Sleep that We'll Both Lose

by QuirkyNeon (iforgetlikeanelephant)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Bedsharing, M/M, Pining, Ray uses too many towels, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgetlikeanelephant/pseuds/QuirkyNeon
Summary: There's only one bed in the hotel room, becauseof coursethere's only one bed. All Brad wants is a hot meal, a warm shower, and a bed to collapse into. He gets all three and then some, thanks to Ray.Written for Day 7 of GenKill Week!





	Laugh at Sleep that We'll Both Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Well guys, we made it to the end of the best week ever, sad to see it go but I'm loving all the new content that's been made! Hope we all keep it up :D

Brad’s not sure why he agreed to bunk with Ray on the return trip to the US, all he knows is that he’s dragging his duffel into a hotel room with Chatty Cathy at his six and he’s dragging ass, the last leg of the trip to England having taken a lot out of him. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s only one bed. “Why the  _ fuck _ is there only one bed?” Brad asks, spinning around to look at Ray and ending up with a mouthful of gross hair.

 

“Homes, when we were checking in the girl said the only room they could guarantee was a king bed room, unless we wanted to go somewhere else. I figured you didn’t, thus the one bed,” Ray says, pushing past Brad and dropping his duffel into the middle of the floor, going to drop on the bed. 

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Brad says, grabbing Ray by his scruff and pushing him toward the bathroom as he drops his duffel next to Ray’s on the ground, “You’re going to wash yourself before you climb into that fucking bed, asshole, I’m not sleeping in filth just because  _ you _ decided to roll around on the sheets before your showered.”

 

“Hotel comforters are gross as fuck anyway, homes, I would be doing you a favor if you needed to call for new sheets,” Ray complains even as he lets himself be manhandled into the bathroom, Brad not having to work very hard to push him before he shuts the door behind him. 

 

“That’s why I’m taking the comforter off while you’re showering,” Brad yells through the closed bathroom door, rolling his eyes as he hears the water cut on and Ray begin to sing. He actually groans out loud when the man in the bathroom starts singing a country song, but this isn’t his Humvee so he doesn’t have veto power over songs anymore. Brad is yawning as he strips the comforter off of the bed and bundles it up, throwing it on the ground under the window before he sits on the desk chair and undoes his boots. 

 

Brad stretches his socked foot out until he can hook his duffle handle around it and drag it toward him, digging out a pair of briefs and shorts to change into after he takes his own shower. He’s listening to Ray sing in the bathroom, and as weird as it is to think, his first thought is  _ home _ , while his eyes slide closed and his breathing evens out. He’s jarred awake by the bathroom door swinging open and Ray letting out one final, long, note as he steps into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “I was nice and even left you a towel,” Ray says, shaking his hair toward Brad as he bends over his duffle, digging through it as Brad averts his eyes from the bare thigh that flashes while he’s bent over. 

 

“Thanks you whiskey-tango  _ fuck _ ,” Brad says as he stands up, bundling his change of clothes in his hand as he hip-checks Ray on his way to the bathroom. He’s standing under the warm spray of the shower and contemplating jerking off, his hand hovering over his half hard cock as the memory of Ray’s thigh pops into his mind and he decides that would just be…it would be too weird, to think about Ray like that hours before they’re going to share a bed. Brad does give an apologetic tug, thumbing over the tip of his cock, as he reaches for the little bottle of shampoo, rolling his eyes when he sees that more than half of it is gone. “You don’t have that much hair, Ray! You didn’t need to use almost all of the shampoo!” He’s loud, using his Official Sergeant Voice to be heard clearly through the door, and he can hear Ray laugh out loud.

 

“I’m sorry! I can’t hear you over the sound of jerking off in this bed,” Ray says, and his voice is clear enough that Brad knows he’s really just standing on the other side of the door. He pictures it for a fleeting moment, Ray sprawled in the center of the bed and working a hand over his cock, and he frowns down at his own cock hardening in response to thought. Fucking  _ Ray,  _ the guy is too much for Brad to handle sometimes. It was easy to ignore, this  _ thing _ between them, when they were surrounded on all sides by men and guns and  _ enemies,  _ but now they’re in a fucking hotel room  _ alone _ and Brad is arguing with his own cock about the cons of jerking off in the shower while he shampoos. They are as follows: Ray could hear, he’ll have to face Ray after he jerks it to thinking about that dumb fucking look on his face that he managed to catch a glimpse of when Ray had been jerking it in Mathilda, Ray could hear, it’s a Bad Idea, and finally,  _ Ray could hear _ . 

 

That doesn’t stop him from curling his fingers around his cock after he’s done working the shampoo through his hair, pressing his fingertips against the vein that runs on the underside just slightly and feeling his knees nearly shake with it. “Sure you are, Ray,” He says loudly, clearing his throat as he plasters the hand not holding his cock to the wall, not jerking off but holding his cock as he hears Ray start speaking again. 

 

“You don’t know that I’m  _ not,  _ Brad, I could be touching my cock right now and thinking about…I don’t know, thinking about that time you tackled me in a rousing game of football, you don’t know my life,” Ray says, and Brad can tell from his tone of voice that he’s teasing, which does nothing to quell the heat in the pit of his stomach as he pictures Ray actually jerking off to that memory. Brad remembers the incident he’s talking about, and it has served him pretty well in jerk off material, especially considering Ray had been shirtless and breathing heavy when Brad managed to tackle him to the ground, straddling him as he celebrated the small victory and rubbed the fact that Ray’s team was now losing in his face. 

 

“I do know your life,” Brad corrects, loudly, as he gives his cock a few good tugs, having to physically restrain himself from any more than that as he sticks his head under the water of the shower and rinses his hair. He’s a mess, a certified looney, but he’s got enough morals to know that jerking off to thoughts of your friend while said friend is standing less than ten feet away is probably less morally grey and more a moral no-no than anything else. Not, of course, that this would be the first time that it’d happened, but it would definitely be the first time it happened in a  _ hotel room alone with him _ , so it’s not something he’s looking to do. Brad looks down at his cock sadly as he rinses off completely, thinking about dead things and annoying things and  _ Trombley _ all in an effort to get his erection to flag, which it does after a few moment of thinking about the kid that Trombley shot over in Iraq. At least he’s not one of those people that gets off on the death and destruction of war, he thinks to himself as he steps out of the shower, grabbing the only towel that Ray left hanging up for him. He cracks the bathroom door open slightly to let the steam out, flicking on the bathroom fan as he towels off, yelling through the crack, “There was also no reason for you to take all the towels and use them!”

 

“I didn’t take  _ all _ of the towels, just three of the four,” Ray corrects and Brad can tell from the volume of his voice that he’s moved away from the bathroom door. 

 

“You left me with one of the weird half towels, asshole, I’m bigger than you, if anyone needs to use more than one towel it’s  _ me _ ,” Brad is harassing him at this point as he slides his briefs on, tugging his basketball shorts on not too long after as he opens the door the rest of the way, still toweling his chest and arms dry as he steps into the bedroom. He doesn’t miss the way the way Ray is looking at him, his gaze heavy on Brad's back as he hefts his duffle up onto the small desk in the corner, ruffling through it for a shirt. 

 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you in a half towel,” Ray grumbles, and even though Brad's pulling his shirt over his head he can hear him, and it makes his cock stir slightly. Again. Ray’s going to be the death of him. 

 

“What was that?” Brad asks, playing deaf as he straightens the hem of his shirt, tugging the sleeves into his palms as he looks up at Ray.

 

“I said  _ maybe we should eat a fuck ton of chow _ ,” Ray says, and Brad isn’t an idiot, but even if he  _ was _ the flush on Ray’s cheeks is brighter than the sun. Brad accepts it though, and after a few minutes of arguing over the room service menu he calls down their order, which is as Ray said it should be  _ a fuck ton of chow _ . 

 

Brad settles onto the bed next to Ray, the two of them nearly shoulder to shoulder against the headboard, as Brad starts flipping through the channels on the TV. They’re quiet as Brad settles on some D-list horror film from the early nineties, and by the time there’s a knock on the door Brad has lulled himself into a half sleep, which is why he nudges Ray as he says, “You get the door.”

 

“Are your legs broken, oh great Sergeant?” Ray asks, laughing as he slips off of the bed, coming back a few moments later and pushing the room service cart as Brad hears the door click shut. They talk shit as they eat their fill, gorging on all the foods that they had wanted out in the goddamn desert and then some and by the time the plates are empty, and Brad’s pushing the cart back into the hallway while Ray calls down to let them know they’re done with it, he’s yawning. 

 

He doesn’t think much of it, climbing into the bed and handing the remote over to Ray as he shifts his pillow down to be flat on the mattress, settling down and letting his eyes close as he lays on his back. “I’m so full I might explode,” Brad says to the ceiling, and he hears Ray laugh as the mattress shifts next to him, he looks over enough to see that Ray’s settled back against the headboard with the remote in his hand. 

 

“It would suck to come back from war just to explode in a hotel room, homes,” Ray says as he starts flipping the channels, and Brad snorts as he watches the play of the light from the television against the back of his eyelids. The best thing about Ray, Brad thinks as he feels himself slipping into sleep while listening to Ray ramble about  _ something,  _ is that he doesn’t need input to hold a conversation. 

 

The next time Brad opens his eyes he’s wrapped around Ray like a fucking  _ octopus _ , his face pressed against the top of Ray’s head as the other man breathes against his neck, their bodies close. “ _ Oh fuck _ ,” Brad breathes this out, not wanting to wake the man in his arms but also not sure how they ended up like this. Last thing he remembered was Ray talking about… _ cats _ ? And the inside of his own eyelids as he fell the fuck asleep. He lifts his head slowly to check the time on the clock on Ray’s side of the bed and he’s surprised to see that it’s only just past midnight. Brad needs to scoot away from Ray, the bed is big enough for them to sleep with only the barest amount of touching, but he can’t bring himself to move. Just like he gorged on pasta and ice cream a few hours ago he’s gorging on Ray now, letting his eyes slip shut as he tries to memorize the shape of the man’s body in his arms as he sleeps. 

 

If Brad had been paying attention he would have felt Ray’s smile against his skin and the way the other man pressed just the tiniest bit closer, his fingers flexing against Brad's side, as he speaks, “Don’t freak out.”

 

Brad freezes when he hears Ray’s quiet words, and his first thought  _ is _ to freak out. “I’m…not,” He chokes out, and this time he  _ does _ feel Ray’s mouth upturn against his neck, which makes him clench his jaw as he presses his nose to the crown of Ray’s head. 

 

“You are,” Ray argues, and Brad is aware of how his breathing hitches when Ray shifts until one of his legs is pressing between his own, their ankles hooking together. 

 

“I’m  _ trying _ not to,” Brad corrects as he rolls his eyes at himself,  _ this whole thing is ridiculous, they should just _ —his brain stops working when he feels Ray’s lips press against his neck in what is an obvious kiss. “Now I’m freaking out,” He says, his voice low as Ray laughs against his neck, pushing at his shoulders until Brad is on his back, Ray hovering above him.

 

Ray’s eyes are shining in the light of the moon, and isn’t that just a romantic fucking thought, Brad thinks as he drags his eyes across Ray’s face. “If you don’t want this, just say so now, because there’s  _ definitely _ been a, I don’t know, a  _ thing _ between us? And if I’m reading everything completely wrong just let me know and I’ll sleep on the fucking floor, but I don’t  _ think  _ I am,” Ray sounds more serious than Brad thinks he’s ever heard him, and that’s what spurs him into movement. 

 

He pushes up on his elbows and captures Ray’s mouth in a searing kiss, and it’s his turn to surprise the other man if the sound he swallows is anything to go by. “You’re not wrong,” He murmurs against his mouth, “I’ve wanted you since fucking  _ Afghanistan _ .”

 

“Oh thank  _ God _ , me too,” Ray laughs as he speaks, pulling back from the kiss to look at Brad’s face. Brad knows his face has got to look fucking  _ stupid _ , but Ray is looking at him like he looked at their dinner the night before and  _ Jesus,  _ he must have been  _ blind _ . “I know that you’re not about relationships, I’m not dumb, so we don’t have to pretend this is going to be anything more than it is,” Ray is speaking quickly, like he’s trying to get everything out while he’s thinking about it, and Brad is mentally taken back to Iraq, when the other man was too high on Ripped Fuel to focus on much more than the road in front of them, “I want whatever you want to give me.”

 

“I can’t promise you anything other than right now,” Brad says honestly, because he can’t, he’s still raw from being fucked in love before, there’s no way he can do anything more than a casual fling with Ray. That’s what stops him, his hand curling around the back of Ray’s neck, he knows Ray deserves better, he’s too good for him, but Brad needs to be selfish. Just this once. 

 

“You’re thinking again, that’s dangerous,” Ray says, shifting so that he’s straddling Brad’s hips, tipping his head slightly to press a sucking kiss to Brad's wrist.

 

Brad laughs, dragging the hand that’s not curled around the back of Ray’s neck up his thigh and hooking his fingertips just under the elastic of Ray’s sleep pants. “I’m just thinking that you’re too good for me,” He says this lightly, his eyes drinking in the easy way Ray is holding himself above him. 

 

“That I might be,” Ray agrees, and that just makes Brad laugh harder, “But I’m settling right now, no time like the present to get the Iceman’s cock in my mouth, right?” 

 

Brad shivers at that, the humor leaving the room as he pulls Ray down to his mouth, kissing him. He decides right then to stop thinking, his tongue brushing against Ray’s as he slips his hand into his pajama pants, curling his hand loosely around Ray’s cock and earning a sharp bite to his bottom lip.  _ Overall _ , Brad thinks as he brushes his thumb over the head of Ray’s cock,  _ sharing a bed could have ended up worse.  _

 


End file.
